


Silverware

by ArtsyAfrodite



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, Gallavich, Ian x Mickey - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:56:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtsyAfrodite/pseuds/ArtsyAfrodite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with their silhouettes dancing off of the bedroom walls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silverware

It starts with their silhouettes dancing off of the bedroom walls.

He breathes in deeply, taking in the scent of pale skin and a heart skipping a beat.  He’s certain he smells contentment, how drunk they are not even a thought as he syncs his own stuttering heartbeat with his, fingers curling tightly around his pulse.  How easily their bones curve around each other makes him feel more at home than he has in months.

“I always knew you’d be the smaller spoon,” Ian breathes into the nape of Mickey’s neck as he tightens his grip around his wrist.  He hums satisfyingly as he feels that palpable beat pick up speed.

He senses a thought slip from Mickey’s chest, his other hand slipped underneath his body pressing there as a hitched breath thumps his palm.  “Fuck off,” Mickey exhales into the pillow as he halfway buries the smile playing at his lips.  He knows Ian can see it behind his head.  There’s more on his tongue, what he really wants to say, needs to say, sticking to the roof of his mouth.  The words are taffy-like, so much he needs to express thick and hard to move around.  Instead, he leans his body more into Ian’s the extra courage from the vodka they drank too weak to combat the proof of his fear.

“You like it,” Ian whispers into Mickey’s ear, sending an endless shiver down his spine.

They lay in bed, punch-drunk, and Mickey watches.  He watches the way the calico shreds the moonlight on the wall, making their shadows larger than life – open for interpretation.  Their shapes cast resemble other things – animals, the outline of a mountain, abstract art.  Mickey chuckles as his blue eyes draw pictures on the white paint and wooden door from the shapes him and Ian make.

“What’s so funny?” Ian asks, his voice heavy with sleep and post-coital bliss.  Mickey moves his body flush into his, his eyes fluttering closed from the close contact.

“We are,” he replies softly, almost sure Ian won’t get it.  But he knows he will, eventually.

***

It continues with their bodies tangled against the kitchen counter.

They spend the next afternoon re-arranging the living room, making it baby proof.  Yevgeny’s crawling now.  They argue over where the couch should go, and how to block little Yevy from the shaky armoire with all of the knives kept in it.  The argument turns into a full on make-out session, Mickey releasing his previous protests in the way he grips Ian’s hair.

“Ok, you win,” Mickey breathes into Ian’s mouth, the grip of his thighs tightening around his waist, his body sinking into the couch.

Ian smiles around the older boy’s lips.  “I always win,” he says before closing the space between their mouths, their tongues connecting again.

They move from re-arranging the living room furniture to cooking dinner together.  Mickey can’t believe how domestic they’ve become.  He tastes the sauce Ian places in front of him, his green eyes zeroing on the way he licks his lips.

“How’s it taste?” Ian asks, his eyes already hooded with desire.

Mickey purposely sucks the remaining sauce off of the spoon painfully slow in an exaggerated way.  “Good – like you,” he says seductively after a loud suck pops in the kitchen.

Ian blushes and opens the drawer to grab another spoon to stir the sauce.  He was always a germophobe when it came to cooking.  As he opens the drawer, Mickey’s eyes take in the way the teaspoons are strategically placed in the larger tablespoons.  The corners of his mouth turn up into a smile, the younger boy catching the way tiny lines form in the corners of his eyes.  The older boy lets a chuckle slip.

“What’s so funny?” Ian asks.  The question is familiar.

“We are,” Mickey answers, the same way he did the previous night.  Ian raises an eyebrow, his curious gaze reflected in the spoon he holds up between them.  He’s silent for a few moments.

“Oh,” Ian finally blurts out, his own smile coming through.  “It’s you and me.”

And then it clicks.  He sees them in the details.  Ian’s heart thuds in his ears as he realizes the connections Mickey makes to them from the random things around them.  And it’s a beautiful thing really, despite the surprise of how observant his boyfriend was now being.  Perhaps he always was.  So now Ian’s confident that the prints he leaves on Mickey are indelible.  His eyes are fully open now and he sees them in the shadows that dance on the walls, the spoons in the drawer – in each other.  Their love is like apophenia, and the connections they draw, infinite.

Ian drops the spoon noisily into the drawer, shoving it closed with his hip.  He pulls Mickey by his belt loops, reeling him in until their pelvic bones melt together.  Their arms tangle around each other as they lean against the kitchen counter.  “I always knew you liked being the smaller spoon,” Ian says into the space that connects Mickey’s neck and collarbone. 

“You win again,” Mickey grins onto Ian’s shoulder.

***

It never ends with the countless days they find themselves in random details like things written between lines, in the colors of an endless sky – even in the silverware.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is random and was definitely inspired by Ian and Mickey spooning. I think I watched that scene like 10 times this week...ok it was more like 30, lol. I've been writing a lot of one shots which has been helping me with my writer's block (which is mainly affecting my ongoing multi-chapter fics). It's been helping!
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed the randomness, and thanks for reading. :)


End file.
